


Not enough magic in the world

by von_gikkingen



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-08-09 19:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: I got the heads up a while back. Most of those who found the life in the order just wasn’t our thing were warned to look out for him. Me, I was told by the exhausted looking Sorcerer Supreme to definitely expect him sooner or later, what with my tendency to drop everything and go help whenever our reality was being threatened by something shaped vaguely like an elder god…Knowing a thing or two about magic was bad enough in his eyes – aiding his former buddies was definitely crossing the line. And so here we were, in my living room, two minutes after he responded to my polite inquiry of "...the fuck are you doing here, Karl?" by throwing me across the room.





	Not enough magic in the world

“Not that I’m not flattered. I _am_. But we seriously need to settle on a safeword first,” I say. Relatively calmly, all things considered.

His reaction is immediate.

That would be because what just happened happened incredibly fast and he wasn’t quite aware that this was for all intents and purposes a home invasion and he currently had me pinned under him and… there were scary implications to what might be happening next. Which was not why he came and it clearly horrified him that I’d think that.

No, he wasn’t here to have his fun with me. _He _was here because there were simply too damn many sorcerers. And there was nothing fun about his grim determination to fix that.

I knew this. I got the heads up a while back. Most of those who found the life in the order just wasn’t our thing were warned to look out for him. Me, I was told by the exhausted looking Sorcerer Supreme to _definitely _expect him sooner or later, what with my the tendency to drop everything and go help whenever our reality was being threatened by something shaped vaguely like an elder god…

Knowing a thing or two about magic was bad enough in his eyes – aiding his former buddies was definitely crossing the line. And so here we were, in my living room, two minutes after he responded to my polite inquiry of_ "...the fuck are you doing here, Karl?"_ by throwing me across the room.

What happened since then was, to put it mildly, not fun. At least two of my ribs felt like they might be at least cracked and I already knew I’ll find a pretty horrific bruise where his fingers closed around my neck and…

And I wasn’t going out like that.

“So what happens now?” I say.

Well, whisper. Right in his ear. In my best _I’ve been a bad girl_ husky voice.

And of course it makes him do the stupid thing of loosening his grip because that is _not_ the kind of situation this is and it’s weirding him out how quickly I switched tracks from violence to sex…

Which is exactly what I was trying to get him to do. To get him so distracted and confused he doesn’t see what's coming until it's too late.

I fight my way from under him with a few quick moves that, yes, technically can only be described as _dirty fighting_ – but why should I give a damn? All is fair when you’re fighting for your life.

From there we proceed to destroy even more of my furniture with various magical and non-magical attacks. I have a lot easier time holding my own this time. I always was better at this than he was. He briefly surprised me but I was I fighter long before I discovered magic was a thing and incorporating spells into what I already had an expertise in always came naturally to me. So, yeah, there's only one way this can go. I know that and he's about to find out in three… two…

“It’s _Hufflepuff_, by the way,” I tell him. “My safeword.”

He doesn’t respond because he’s at my feet then, in the process of passing out. So I have no way of knowing if he heard that.

Shame. I was rather proud of that.

The Ancient one did tell me I appeared to be putting more effort into the things I said to my opponents than in the fight itself. Which was a valid criticism and all – if only she wasn’t telling me while chuckling at the thing I said after I decked one of the initiates… It was on her, really, that I took it as a permission to keep right at it.

You gotta find a way to have fun, especially when you’re one of those unfortunates who know exactly how much danger the reality is in at any given moment. And, oh, I was going to have so much fun with _this_.

* * *

“Too tight?” I say when he comes to, only to find out I spent the intervening time by tying him to a chair. A fact he's far from pleased about. “Or maybe just tight enough…?” I add with a smirk.

And there goes that _why are you like this?_ expression I know so well, having been treated to it quite often while I was in training. As if that could discourage me from using weapons-grade innuendos whenever the mood struck me.

All magic all the time simply isn’t good for people. They forget what more there is to life and next thing you know they’re… Well, making limiting the sorcerous population of Earth their life’s mission for instance.

“You know… I’m almost insulted it took you this long to get to me,” I say, studying him carefully. “What’s up with that…?”

“Maybe I expected things to go exactly like this and I wasn't looking forward to it,” he comments darkly. “You’ve always been an acquired taste.”

“And you never acquired it,” I say and, following my lifelong policy of _when in doubt make things weird_, walk over. “Maybe it’s time to change that,” I add as I place myself onto his lap.

“Runa?” he says, slowly and as reasonably as he can make himself. “_What _are you doing?”

“Giving you a taste,” I say, shifting my weight on top of him. And for a single moment I wonder just how bad an idea it would be to cut the rope binding his wrists because to feel his hands slowly tracing their way up my thighs before taking hold of my hips, yeah, that would really…

Which is when I catch myself. Because there’s how far I’m willing to take a joke and then there’s whatever that was.

A thought one should definitely not be having about someone who just tried to kill them. Already bad enough in itself. And then there’s the fact that it must have showed in my face.

Must have. Because he _knows_.

How do I know he knows? Because that’s when he does the one thing his restraints don’t prevent him from doing and kisses me.

Kisses me like he means it, like this isn’t just a tactic, like this isn’t him working on getting me to untie him. And I give myself into it, that’s the worst of it. Even knowing what he’s after I delight at the sensation, especially the way he tenses up against his bonds that lets me know he’d be doing a lot more if only he wasn't tied up. 

“No. Nope. _Hufflepuff_,” I say a few seconds later when rational thought returns and I make myself stop. “Good try but I’m _not_ untying you.”

“You don’t have to.”

Which is a fair point and I know as much, obviously, being where I am. I couldn’t miss the hardness pressing against me if I tried…

I still can’t believe what I'm hearing. This is Mordo. He doesn't say things like _that_. He's the guy that made me look up whether you could have your sex drive magically removed. He's the definition of _restrained_. And now, while literally restrained, he's telling me to go ahead and…

And I feel like I've just been bested in my own game.

“You do want to, don’t you?” he says and the way he looks at me almost makes me believe I’m not the only one, even as he sounds like he’s genuinely asking for confirmation.

“Not as much as I want to live.”

“You don’t have to untie me,” he repeats and I realize I dug my nails into his shoulders. Just from hearing him say the words. Just because he actually managed to sound like he meant them. Like he really wanted nothing more than for me to do something so obviously _wrong_. Made no less wrong by the fact I apparently had his consent.

“I said _Hufflepuff_, dammit,” I say and get up. And my traitor thoughts are less than pleased about that development. But it doesn’t matter. This has gotten far enough out of hand and so the next thing I do is what I should have done in the first place. Call up the guy in charge of the nearest Sanctum to let him know he wants to send a squad of his best sorcerers this way. And to make it fast, too, because doing their jobs for them has already taken up enough of my Thursday.

“Thank you.”

The words startle me so much that I turn to face him even though that is _not_ the best idea right now.

“What for?”

“Not calling Stephen.”

“And how awkward would that be?” I say, unable to keep myself from smirking. “No, I think we had enough of awkward for one day…”

* * *

That’s where it should have ended. _Should have_. What I managed to forget since my time in the order was that it was usually one thing after another with magic. Long story short something tried to tear its way into our reality and they had to drop everything to be just barely able to prevent a major cataclysm. No one had time to worry about a rogue sorcerer during all that and so of course he was still at large. And hopefully dealing with his _too many sorcerers _issues somewhere on a different continent…

I _really_ hoped that was the case. Because he may have gone as far to the dark side as one can, what with this new hobby of his, but… No, there were things even he would draw a line at.

I had to believe that.

I had to believe that the way things stood between us when I last saw him would be reason enough for him to stay away. It was like the definition of _okay it’s too weird now_ and he couldn’t have changed so much that he’d want this mess a situation. That he’d come back to make it worse. Because it could only be made _worse_. Whether he came back to try to kill me again… _or…_

“Dammit,” I utter, a word tinted with genuine anger. At myself since I _am _the only person in the room. And I just realized that while I was thinking these troubling thoughts my hand was doing something even more troubling. “Get a grip, Runa,” I mutter under my breath, making myself withdraw it from between my legs. Even though at this point it would probably be better if I continued. Finished what I started.

Because if I ever needed the release it would be now. And so after a minute or so of reminding myself exactly how messed up this is I end up doing it anyway. Sliding my hand back under the covers, running the fingers over my nipple before continuing downward and… And I close my eyes and I let myself remember, in disturbingly vivid detail what happened between me and the man who came here specifically to murder me. But no matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact I can't make it matter. Not as much as the rest of it matters. The memory of his tongue exploring my mouth and the way I could feel him stiffening beneath me and…

“I see we have the same problem.”

My eyes snap open and there he is, a figure indistinct in the shadows of my bedroom. And I should be scared, should be reaching for the weapon on my bedside table. _But..._

What I’m feeling is leaving no space for fear, however appropriate it would be right now. If I saw the glint of a blade as he came into light I still wouldn’t be able to stop myself from saying, “Get over here. _Now_.”

I speak the words with breathless urgency that makes my voice almost unrecognizable. And I know that if he doesn’t move in the next second I will reveal even more of this naked lust that is warping my thoughts. That I’ll _beg him_. That I’ll get down on my knees… which is not out of the question anyway, in fact as soon as the thought occurs to me I feel a strong desire to do just that. 

But that’ll have to wait because he’s exactly as desperate for this as I am and even as those troubling thoughts burn through my mind he’s crossing the distance and pulling the covers aside and I’m pulling the oversized shirt that’s the only thing I’m wearing upward, past my hips. Because there’s no need to wait. Considering how I spent the last few minutes we can skip the preliminaries and... 

I dig my fingers into his skin in impatience because he _doesn't. _And what the hell is he waiting for, does he not see how much I need him? Breathing heavily and just about keeping myself from cursing him for being hesitant about this I start working on getting him out of his pants - and almost slap his hand away when I feel it close around my wrist in attempt to stop me.

“Dammit, Mordo. You came to me,” I say, looking up into his face with both passion and quite considerable fury. “You don’t get to back out now.”

“I’m not trying to,” he says.

I don’t think. I just raise myself on my elbows until I’m half-sitting and then I’m saying right into his ear…”Why aren’t you inside me, then?”

I sink my teeth into his earlobe, stopping just short of causing real pain. And suddenly he’s the one impatiently fumbling at his clothes. Being fast about it and I could kiss him I'm so grateful I don’t have to wait anymore. 

Having been so close already all it takes for me to climax is a few quick thrusts. I moan against the side of his neck. And I know he’s nowhere close and that’s just fine with me.

I don’t fight him when he withdraws for a moment, when he moves to sit, taking a shuddering breath before pulling me on top of him, just as I was when I had him tied up to a chair. And his eyes are very dark and they never leave my face as he runs his hands up my thighs, as he digs his fingers into my hips even as I reach downward to take the hardness of him into my hand and slowly slide it inside again so we can get back to this – since we’re so clearly nowhere near done with one another.

I try to get the front of his tunic unfastened and have some success before giving up, giving in, giving myself into the movement of my hips and nothing more. He does manage better and soon he has my shirt over my head. And his eyes seem to delight on the sight of my nakedness and I can't help a smile.

In the moonlight the nordic paleness of my skin is starkly white, the contrast against his own all the more dramatic. He digs his fingers into my sides and exerts pressure, making me shift the rhythm of my motion. I can feel his answering movements growing more fervent and all I can do is try to match him as his hands move upwards, settling on my breasts, caressing my nipples. And it can't be good for a human heart to beat this fast, I'm sure. Yet it goes on for a few more exhausting minutes. Until finally...

"What was that for?" he asks breathlessly when the first thing I do, even while the sensation of my climax is still running through me, is hit him in the chest. Not that hard, not with any real intention to cause pain. But with real anger behind the gesture all the same.

"Years, Karl. I've known you for _years_."

"I'm aware," he says, a frown of confusion clouding his expression even as he withdraws from inside of me.

"I could have been having sex like this for years," I say. And in truth I am a little angry, I realize now that I hear myself say the words out loud.

"It wouldn't have been like this," he replies, his expression growing solemn.

"Well now we'll never know, will we?" 

"Before you could have trusted me," he says. "Before I was no danger to you."

I don't bother to answer that. I just lean over to kiss him, to kiss away that troubled expression, to banish that darkness of heavy thoughts from his eyes. "Idiot," I whisper softly before deciding to do it again. To press my lips against his to keep him from talking. Keep him from saying something else, something that would be most likely true and just a little heartbreaking. 

Maybe he's right, maybe it would have been nothing like this before. But it was like this _now_. Tonight. And I knew that after I rested a little I'll want more. I'll want to explore this. Get as much of a feel for his body as I can before he remembers he has a crusade to get back to. Before I wake up, alone, maybe wondering if it was all just a dream. Daylight always makes you doubt these things. Especially when they feel too good to be true...

I stretch out on the bed then, my sore muscles allowing me no other option. And it surprises me when I feel his hand encircling my waist, as he presses himself against me. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, still a little frantic, and I have to smile.

Yes. This will seem a lot worse by daylight.

_That's because it is_, my traitor thoughts inform me. That's because this is arguably the worst decision I ever made.

"Runa?" I hear him say before I feel his lips against the back of my neck.

"Yes?"

"How can you not be terrified for this reality, knowing what's out there?"

"You have to have something to be afraid for to feel that way," I tell him without really needing to think about it. "Having nothing helps."

That used to be my answer, anyway. And maybe I still had nothing. Maybe I still had that kind of freedom from fear no one in their right mind would envy me. But with his hand tracing the curve of my side maybe I had a little more than I had yesterday. Even if it was just for now. 

* * *

I wake up in a bed that still smells of him. Alone, as I knew I would be. Pleasantly aching all over and apparently incapable of feeling any apprehension even though there will be hell to pay if anyone from the order ever finds out about this.

Even if this was an isolated incident that will never be repeated there will be trouble.

And it should worry me, I know it should, _but… _But this happens to me more often than I like to admit. This exact thing, more or less. A situation there is not enough magic in the world to fix. And since I’m somehow still around… No, I really can’t find it in me to worry about this.

The only thing to worry about is for how long I’ll be sleeping in an empty bed before he finds his way back to me…


End file.
